A Curious Endeavor
by Imogene19
Summary: ONE-SHOT (Maybe two) Tom Riddle stumbles upon a very interesting find in the Forbidden Forest, and decides to keep it. Decides to keep her.


Deep into the woods, a young man knelt stiffly by a dying fire. He was staring intensely into the flames, as if trying to decipher some hidden message in the flickering light.

Next to him lay his packs and satchel, filled with various ingredients he had gathered over the course of the weekend. He was ready to return, but one could not Apparate into or out of the grounds of Hogwarts and it was very unwise to travel the Forbidden Forest alone in the darkness. He knew he could make it, but he didn't feel like disrupting any more of the valuable ecosystem there. He had taken enough to supply his newest experiment and to stock up his cabinets for the next three he had planned.

Besides, he was not needed back at the shop until the following afternoon and any time he could get to become familiar with the forest he took. Tom Riddle was no fool.

Dumbledore would become Headmaster very very soon, and would surely deny Tom access to the forest. Dippet was far easier to convince. Tom supposed he might just miss the senile old fool, if only for his convenience.

He sighed and reached for his leather satchel. He puled out a thin blanket and deftly unfolded it. He spread it out on the ground in front of a tree, reclined against the trunk, and tried for a short nap.

XxXxXxX

He was awoken abruptly by a screech and a thump.

Tom stilled and slowly opened his eyes, hoping to remain unnoticed and therefore hopefully uneaten.

Much to his surprise, the creature in front of him was far from carnivorous.

The fire had died at least an hour before, and in the middle of its sooty remains was a heap of robes and hair. He slowly, silently leaned up onto his knees to get a better look.

The witch had a huge mass of hair that was now dark with charcoal and her black Hogwarts robes were stained, torn, and ...burned? Her face and hands were covered in scratches and bruises that clearly weren't from her landing. Her wand had rolled some feet away from her outstretched hand, and he quietly pocketed it.

She was unconscious, but breathing.

Tom made a decision.

XxXxXxX

With the aid of a very careful Levitation charm and a heavy Sleeping Draught, Tom managed to cart both his packages and the girl safely through the early morning woods. Once he neared the edge of the tree line he cast a powerful Disillusionment charm on her, along with a Notice-Me-Not and a few glamours, just in case. He didn't want Dumbledore's beady-eyed bird to fly by and betray his newest secret.

So he marched, back straight, gaze forward, and somber expression firmly in place with his packages floating in tow. Business as usual.

When he finally passed the last remains of what was once a far-afield fence in the outskirts of Hogsmeade Village, Tom allowed himself a short break in character.

He set the girl down, removed his charms, and looked her over again. Still very much asleep and still worse for wear. Another mystery, and a very intriguing one at that.

Tom glanced around one last time. Then he bent down, scooped her up into his arms, and Apparated them directly to his small flat in Diagon Alley.

XxXxXxX

When the witch finally awoke under the diligent care of Tom Riddle, her first reaction left Tom gleefully entertained. She was extremely expressive, though unconsciously so, even though she clearly tried to stay calm and distant around him.

She told him her name was Hermione Granger, and that she was a Seventh Year at Hogwarts. This he knew immediately was a lie - not only had he checked the school's records and any missing persons reports on the off-chance that he had somehow never crossed paths with her in school, but he watched her face. Her tells were so obvious it was pathetic. Though she wasn't a Hogwarts student, she was definitely a Gryffindor.

That being said, she was also insultingly defensive. About_ everything._

After an entire evening of being quietly polite and attentive to the stubborn girl, Tom knew his patience would run short very, very soon.

He wanted answers.

All she gave him was more questions.

XxXxXxX

Her unorthodox arrival on the grounds of an Un-Plottable castle surrounded by centuries-old Anti-Apparition wards (amongst other esoteric defenses) made her secrets of incalculable interest. When he first discovered her he was intent on figuring out the how's and why's behind that night, Obliviate her memory of him, and send the witch on her way. But now... Now, after two nights in the conscious witch's company made it very clear that she had much more to hide.

The most curious of which was that she behaved as if she knew him, but tried desperately hard to convince him otherwise. She was so adorably terrified of him, though he had given her no reason to be. Yet.

Oh yes. Tom was very much entertained by his newest pet. Even if she was exhausting.

XxXxXxX

He was quite proud of himself.

It took him eight whole days of dancing around her before he cursed her.

Really, she should be impressed. He'd never put up with any idiocy for that long before.

Unfortunately, at first it had put him back even further in his quest for answers. The girl started screaming like a banshee, as they usually do, but before he even got around to his questions, she began saying...something.

She cried and begged and pleaded on the floor, yes the usual entertainment, but kept repeating what sounded almost like a litany, a prayer.

_"It's a fake! I swear! Please, please, it's a fake!"_

He had paused then, unsure and uncomfortable with the feeling. She'd kept screaming, crying, and begging long after he stopped. Tom saw in her large brown eyes the nightmare she was trapped in.

He didn't know what to do.

So he went out.

XxXxXxX

Hermione was empty for days afterwards. Just... strangely blank.

It unnerved him.

She'd lay in bed for hours. When he'd make her get up, she'd sit in her chair and stare at the wall. She never touched the food he put in front of her.

What irked him most was that she just...looked past him, through him. Ignored him.

Nobody ignored Lord Voldemort.

Not for very long, anyways.

XxXxXxX

Her time was up.

Nearly two weeks, he'd kept her. One of those weeks he'd even tried civil conversation, polite questions.

It was exhausting, frustrating. He'd gotten nowhere, worse than nowhere, and he'd had enough.

He'd gotten Abraxas to collect quite a large supply of Veritaserum, and it was time he got his answers.

Really, she ought to be grateful.

He'd been so patient with her.

Besides, if he didn't figure her out soon, _now, _she'd have actually succeeded in starving herself.

Silly girl.

XxXxXxX

In the end, it took a combination of things to get her to talk.

The buckets of Veritaserum, of course, but also quite a bit of conversational coaxing and a few borderline Dark spells were employed before he could get her to be candid.

And Merlin, when her very soul was revealed to him...the_ fire_ was incredible. Infatuating. Intoxicating.

He wanted to devour her.

Her words, her story, her delicious pain burst from her like a riotous river through a flimsy dam. She spoke with her whole body, her hands, her face. Even her hair, it seemed.

It was fascinating to watch.

Not to mention the _information._ He'd never imagined, never dreamed... His mouth watered as she went on, describing the flaws in every one of his plans in detail, filtering in almost indignant commentary.

Her comments were interesting, to say the least. She sounded less ruffled by the content of his "evil" regime, but more at his mistakes.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed at him and his plans as if he were Mulciber attempting to write a Potions essay.

He wanted to be offended, he really did.

But seeing her feathers all ruffled and indignant, it was just too... adorable. When she berated him in between her nearly lecture-like rants on his future - her past - it was all highly amusing.

And as she revealed more of her part in his downfall, the more it dawned on him just how clever this dirty little Gryffindor might be.

As she described her hunt of his Horcruxes, her research, her _eight months completely hidden from him,_ Tom grew more and more disturbed.

He really didn't know what to make of her.

She was a Mudblood Gryffindor girl, who with minimal help (really, like he didn't know that two Quidditch-for-brains jocks were much help in anything more than the muscle department) managed to almost entirely orchestrate his own downfall.

And she had fallen through time, right into his lap.

A miraculous gift indeed.

XxXxXxX

He decided to keep her for a while longer.

He reasoned that he could always kill her when she became too much of a nuisance.

But really, she had helped him so much - against her will, perhaps, but - and she ought to be rewarded.

Really, he rewarded all his servants when they pleased him.

Because that's what she had quickly become.

XxXxXxX

Her dramatic despair irked him, so he practically beat it out of her.

It was tiresome, and he would not put up with it.

Clever girl that she was, it didn't take her long to catch on to her new position.

He kept her because she could almost keep up with him. None of the others who served him could do that.

She kept him from getting too bored.

XxXxXxX

He locked her in their shared room when his Knights came.

Tom did not want them to see her.

She was his.

Tom refused to share.

XxXxXxX

Maybe it was the close quarters.

Maybe it was her fire, her clever little wit.

Maybe it was that he still had a full quarter of his soul - he deemed it best in light of her reveal to hold off on any more Horcruxes - or maybe it was just that he was a man and she was a passably attractive woman.

Whatever the reason, when he had accidentally walked in on her exiting the bath and their gazes met, things had...escalated.

To a _rapturous_ degree.

To his gleeful surprise, it was all decidedly..._mutual._

XxXxXxX

He waited patiently, as she advised.

He waited until his twenty-fifth birthday before even applying at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore had no solid reason to turn him away.

Nothing but suspicion, and that would never hold up if Tom contested it.

Besides, who else was he to hire?

All the other applicants had rescinded their applications.

And when he returned to his flat, viciously victorious,_ she_ was waiting.

She always waited for him.

XxXxXxX

He had until mid June to get his affairs in order and be ready to move into the castle.

His little witch had become to valuable, to pliant and helpful, and he was reluctant to let her go.

As a teacher, he could hardly keep a woman captive in his bedroom. If he wanted to ever be Minister, that sort of scandal could be hard to cover up.

He knew he was grasping at straws, creating reasons and obstacles that could be easily overcome, but...

Hermione was his now.

He didn't want to give her up.

He told himself that it was because he had grown accustomed to her presence.

And really, who could stand to deal with the idiot brigade he called his Knights all day long without some reprieve?

He chose not to think much more on the subject.

Hermione, however, was very un-surprised when he marched her down to the bowels of the Ministry and married her on a Thursday in March.

He chose not to think much more on that, either.


End file.
